


Welcome Again

by Haruka_17



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Death, Demigods, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Nico either, Nico likes froot loops, Percy does not have a healthy diet, Percy need to get some sleep, Post-The Blood of Olympus (Heroes of Olympus), Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Trauma, alternative end of the Blood of Olympus, cool neighbors, fight, it's not because he wants to, seriously he needs to stop eating so much fast food, sometimes percy is an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27922438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haruka_17/pseuds/Haruka_17
Summary: Percy Jackson became a recluse guy, awkward with people and resentful. Hidden in an old apartment in Harlem, his routine is summed up in a vicious cycle: waking up, killing monsters, college, guilt. Sleep, if he was lucky.On one of his countless sleepless nights, at three in the morning, someone knocks on his door. When he decided that answering would be the best option, he is surprised to realize that the one standing there was not a threat - at least not yet.Nico Di Angelo, with his stygian-iron sword firmly in his hilt, murmurs the five words that would turn Percy's new world upside down:"I, um ... I need help."
Relationships: Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	1. When a problem knocks at your door

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> This is the first time that I translate something into English (I'm Brazilian). Furthermore, this is also my first job here at Ao3, so I'm super nervous hahaha. I hope I managed to do everything correctly.  
> Be cool, please ❤
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Percy Jackson was standing in front of the gray marble counter when he heard the knock on the door. 

He thought it was strange. 

Really. 

First, because it was nearly three in the morning. Second, almost nobody visited him anymore. Third: _it was almost three damn hours in the morning_ , for gods sake. 

He was making a mug of coffee and trying not to think about his life. It was hard not to think about his own life, especially when it was like that, so messy and meaningless. And also, of course, because life was his own. 

But he tried. 

His movement was automatic: he reached into his pocket. The simple pen, apparently cheap and ordinary, was in hand. When Percy uncapped, however, a shining 3 feet long blade of the purest celestial bronze appeared. Anaklusmos, Riptide, whichever you prefer; honestly, the name didn't matter much at that moment. What mattered was your senses, activated like a machine in full swing, ADHD sending waves of euphoria, your heart beating fast. 

Percy was ready for the fight. 

He gripped the leather handle firmly and opened the door. 

With his sword raised, prepared to deliver a deadly blow to any gorgon, Minotaur, or Jehovah's Witness, Jackson opened his eyes wide when he realized that the one standing there was not a potential enemy. 

At least not for now. 

It was Nico Di Angelo. 

The visitor had moved away with the agility of a well-trained demigod, taking his slim figure across the hall before Poseidon's son's sword did much worse damage than a simple haircut. 

Percy, in turn, lowered his weapon before the blow was delivered. He didn't even know how he had the strength to do it, but maybe the shock had stopped him to the point that he didn't just cut the supposed threat into slices small enough to make a fucking salad. 

Even his voice came out strange, perhaps a little squeaky: 

" _What_?" 

"H-hey." 

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Nico was visibly uncomfortable, breathless from the shock, and glued to the opposite wall of the dark place. One of his hands was ready to draw the fearsome black iron-sword. Percy did not find himself in such a different way, although his version of _glued to the wall_ was his knuckles clamped tightly to the Anaklusmos. 

Di Angelo had never been good with people, and Jackson had also unlearned that completely (not that one day he had been good, you know. Except, um, let's say he was better at socializing than he was today). 

"Uh ... good night", he said _. Good night_ ? Really? It had been over a year since he had seen the face of Hades' son, almost killed him in those few seconds of interaction and the first full sentence out of his mouth was a _good night?_ He frowned. "What you want?" 

Okay, he was just making things worse and worse. Yeah Percy, just like you. 

Nico murmured something he didn't understand (and, frankly, he didn't want to understand). Then the younger man cleared his throat and murmured again but in a more audible tone. The voice was a bit torn as if he wasn't used to talking so much. His hands moved away from the stygian iron sword, but they did not stop, turning the skull ring on his long finger. The eyes didn't find Percy at all. 

"I, um ... need help." 

Percy blinked a few times, finally noticing the world around him. Both were in the hallway of the old building at dawn, with very dangerous weapons in hand. With one movement, the sword became a simple pen again. He took a deep breath, wondering if that was a good idea. He led the way to his apartment and said: 

"Come in." 

... 

Nico didn't seem at all at ease, and Jackson felt too uncomfortable to put it into words or just try to ease the tension. The last person in his other life who had visited him had been Grover. The satyr passed by his house at times. He brought little or no news from the camp (that goat knew Percy very well), but he talked a lot about Juniper and his work as a messenger of Pan, who charged him more and more while eating some cans of beer or Coca-Cola that Percy kept (especially for the guest, but he would never admit it). Oh, and of course: he avoided _that subject_ as much as possible. 

But that? That had been over three months ago. As far as he knew, Grover Underwood was now somewhere in California, fighting whatever was causing so many fires, far away from Harlem. When Poseidon's son wanted to see his family, he went to Sally Jackson's house. College friends were always complaining about how Percy barely let them go to his apartment. He was a bit of a recluse. 

He swallowed hard. 

"You can take off your coat and sit if you want. Do you ... Do you want to eat something?" 

And swerved into the kitchen. For some reason, he wanted to avoid that conversation as much as possible. He wanted to avoid looking at the boy's eyes as much as possible, he wanted to avoid thinking about his life as much as possible (or at least the one he now weakly called _another life_ ). Damn it. 

He opened the refrigerator. 

"Look, there is ... there is frozen lasagna, yesterday's yakisoba, Coke, blue cake, beer. I made coffee, too. Uh, two slices of pizza. And... yeah, it's just it." 

He looked back. 

The kitchen had a very wide, dark wood door, so the room was perfectly visible. Nico was standing not far from the door through which he had entered, still spinning the skull ring. He seemed to want to run or just throw up. Percy understood it completely. 

"Um, I ... I accept the lasagna, please." 

Di Angelo was like a puppy dropped. His hair was tousled as usual, but longer. They went a little over their drooping shoulders. He seemed to be a few inches taller, too. He wore a new aviator jacket (the other had been torn in an unfriendly encounter with Lycaon, the first lycanthrope, but the current one was just as huge and frayed). Shyly, she took off her coat. He wore a black T-shirt with dancing skulls drawn on it and the stygian iron sword hung beside him. A chain was used as a belt. 

It was the same demigod that Percy remembered. 

"Okay", Poseidon's son replied, without much ceremony. He took the lasagna and put it in the microwave. He returned to the room, defeated. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to go to the camp, didn't want another crazy mission. 

Percy just wanted to be at peace. 

He took a few steps, stopping less than a meter from the boy. Nico seemed to cringe at himself. 

"Give it to me", Percy pointed to the jacket. Hesitantly, Di Angelo offered him the garment. Jackson took it with more irritation than he intended, taking it to an iron chair that was next to the dark blue sofa. As he adjusted his jacket on the back of the seat, he felt the look of Hades' son piercing his back, so he said (again, _much more_ irritated than he intended): "And for the love of the gods, Nico, _sit down_!" 

First, he heard nothing. Then small afraid strides, and finally a rustle of fabric against fabric. Then Percy himself sat down, as far away from the other boy as possible. 

Bluntly, he said: 

"Help for what?" 

Nico looked at his restless hands. For the first time since the young man's arrival, the host noticed him. He hadn't done it before, perhaps because all the light in the room was coming from the kitchen and from the corridor leading to the bedrooms, since the room itself was out. 

Maybe it was just because he didn't want to notice. 

But he did. 

Nico looked dejected and thin, very thin. His eyes, barely hidden by his black hair, had huge dark circles as if they had been waiting for a decent sleep for well over a week. The cheeks were deeper than recommended and the arms, despite having certain muscles by the hard work of a full-time demigod, seemed thinner than they should have been. The ribs should be visible. How long a week did that kid go without eating? 

"A laptop" 

"What?" 

"I need help ... to get a laptop" 

Percy frowned again. 

"Why don't you buy another one? You know, there are thousands of laptops in the world" 

Nico pursed his lips as if he suddenly wanted to slap the other on the head. 

"Not one of those. _Definitely_ not one of those" 

"What's so special about this one?" 

"This is from my father." 

Jackson swallowed hard. I didn't have very good memories of the Italian's father. No, he really hadn't. 

"But… Me?" He asked after a considerable silence. "Why me? You know ... that I'm not the most suitable. You have friends who could help you." 

He held himself back from saying _other friends_ . Saying _others_ would imply a conclusion that he was also one, and he was _not_ one. Not even. He was probably no longer friends with anyone at the camp, not beyond Grover and perhaps Chiron. Friends did not abandon others, especially in the situation where everyone found themselves after the battle, after the loss of ... important people. 

He was not the only one to have been hurt by the end of that mess, not even far. But as petty, as selfish a seaweed brain as only he could be, he acted as if he were the only one hit. Ran away. He hid there, in that old apartment that smelled like mold, attending marine biology college, pretending to be a normal person and trying not to blow up the building or set something on fire. 

So no, he wasn't the right person. Really. 

"It's just ... you were my best option. But if you can't help it, I'll understand", said the low voice. Best choice? Since when was Perseus Jackson the best option for something? Gods, he could barely read a normal text without muddling his whole mind. 

"Hazel?", he suggested. 

"Hazel is ... _Busy_." 

Nico said the whole sentence as if he were trying to swallow something bitter and horrible. The green-eyed guy decided not to question. 

"Reyna? You are so friends. I mean, you're like a brother to her."

A sigh of pure tiredness came over the boy's lips. The voice that reached his ears seemed to be old, worn out. It sounded like the voice of a person who had seen everything in the world, and not the voice of a mere seventeen-year-old boy. Not that Di Angelo was a mere boy, of course, but that voice ... did not even vaguely resemble the childish voice of the annoying player of mythomagic cards. 

"Reyna is a very busy person, Percy. And I haven't talked to her in a while. I haven't actually spoken to the other camp in a while. Communication has been ... um, never mind." 

He ran a hand over his face. 

Percy raised an eyebrow but did not question. 

"And Jason? Since that day ... I mean, it was the strangest friendship I've ever seen, but you were so close and..." 

"He's studying, Percy. Like, far away from here. He started college not long ago, after Piper and he broke up." 

Percy opened his eyes wide but said nothing. Piper and Jason separated? Perhaps that surprised him even more than the unexpected visit. 

He tried to think. A boyfriend. Didn't Nico have a boyfriend? That healer, son of Apollo. 

"Will?", He finally asked. 

Nico frowned and shook hands. Jackson feared that the other would stick his sword in the ground and bring a random skeleton warrior from the underworld, even though they were far from the mainland, on the fourth floor. 

Fortunately, he didn't. 

"Will and me ... it's not the same anymore.", He replied carefully. 

"Oh." 

Silence. 

The microwave chose that exact moment to beep. 

"Shall we go to the kitchen?", Muttered Poseidon's son, eager to drink his damn coffee. 

Di Angelo shook his head slowly. 

… 

Nico ate as if he didn't see food so often, which Percy wouldn't be surprised if it were true. He tried to be polite while swallowing the frozen lasagna as if it were a filet mignon made by some renowned French chef. Percy sympathized, but he still wanted to be alone. 

Some part of him was screaming, saying that it was good to finally be close to a camp buddy, even if that buddy was Nico and they both didn't have such a good track record (and that applying a beautiful understatement, of course). However, he tried to suppress that feeling. 

_I wanted to be alone and_ period _. Stop thinking that kind of shit!_

When he was alone, people didn't look at him with that burial face. With that face that goes like _Hey, Percy, I know you've been through a lot, I'm sorry_. No. He didn't want anyone to be sorry. He just wanted to drink some damn coffee. 

But Di Angelo, at that moment, was not a bad company. He seemed very interested in his frozen lasagna, and in no time since he arrived, he had given him a pitying look. No. Nico was used to death. Maybe that's why Jackson didn't slam the door in the boy's face as soon as he appeared in the hall. For this reason and because he knew that, if Di Angelo was in the mood, he could appear in the shadows beside his bed, like a ghost. 

Looks of irritation, tiredness, hesitation, discomfort? This he could reveal. No problem. 

Percy scratched his stubble. 

"And ... why does this laptop matter?" 

He waited for Nico to swallow the lasagna. 

"Because it's not an ordinary device, I think. My father did not give me many details. He just said that it contains important things, things that can make the course of the world stay or be changed ... Look, I don't know what he meant by that, but the course of the world? It seemed ... Important, maybe." 

He didn't want any more explanations of what that shit was. That was enough. Honestly, why didn't the gods deal with their own problems? It was always like this: _demigods, fight in this impossible mission for something that is my fault, blah blah. Your reward? I don't know, I don't turn you into a hamster, what do you think?_

In the end, he always accepted. He had already been turned into a hamster, and the experience had been no fun at all. 

"And how did it disappear? By the way, do you have any idea where this laptop is?" 

"Uh ... I think I know where it is. There is ... there is a restaurant. It is not far from here. They serve Ethiopian food, they have been closed for a few days. But it smells like a monster, you know." A little break. "Well, I was, um ... around. So my dad called me. Someone stole it, some very clever monster or an over-ambitious demigod. I do not know." 

"Who would have the power to steal something from your father? Maybe another god?" 

Nico hesitated. 

"I do not know. Really. But I've been walking around, as I said, and ... I think our best option is this restaurant." Di Angelo diverted the conversation. 

Percy looked at the boy and, for the first time, Nico looked back at him. 

"Is that another trap?" 

"What? No, Percy. Gods, no. I just ... I really need your help." 

Jackson was not convinced. 

"Why? I mean, you are very strong. You can summon an army alone, Nico. You are the ghost king." 

Nico sighed again. Percy took another sip of coffee, his brow furrowed to the limit. 

"There are many monsters in that place. I wouldn't be able to handle it, and I'm ... very tired. Please." 

Percy ran a hand over his face and ruffled his hair. He would help Di Angelo, of course. But he would have class on Monday, and, gods, he couldn't die and miss the fucking class. He would have evidence in a week. Yeah, that thing about dying or getting seriously hurt was out of the question. Mr. Hudson would not give him extra points even if he arrived at college without a leg and get a shot in the shoulder. 

"I will help you." 

Nico made a sound of satisfaction. 

"Thanks." 

And then he went back to eating. Percy didn't know if the boy's satisfaction was due to the fact that he agreed to help him or just to end the conversation, giving him a free pass to go back to eating his lasagna. 

Jackson finished his coffee. It was cold, watery, and full of sugar. Horrible. At least he drank the damn coffee. 

"Nico?" 

"Hm?" 

"How did you find out where I live?" 

Nico tensed. Then he did something unexpected: he chuckled. Little. Almost unnoticed, maybe even a little forced. 

"Sally?" 

Percy snorted and ran his hands over his face. It made so much sense that he almost got angry. 

"Man, there's no way. _Mom, please, if someone comes to me, don't tell them where I'm living!_ She says _my dear son, of course!_ and five minutes later she gives my address to the first one who appears!" 

Di Angelo laughed more. More than the short giggle, just, nothing exaggerated. He was still the Ghost King: he had a reputation to uphold. 

While Nico drank Coca-Cola, looking a little less tense than before, Percy made one of the many gaffes of the night, and perhaps the worst. He said these five little words: 

"Are you still in the camp?" 

Silence. Nico stared at the end of his lasagna as if she were reciting one of those horrible Apollo's haiku. 

"Hm ... You know ... More or less", He murmured hesitantly. No more short laughs this time." 

No, Percy didn't know. What kind of answer was that? 

"You ..." he started to say, even though he didn't know what he was going to say, in the first place. Luckily, Nico interrupted him: 

"Please don't ask." 

"Okay." 

Silence again. By this time, Nico had already finished his lasagna, so he was poking a piece of ground meat with his fork. Jackson knew he didn't want to get into that. 

For the first time in the morning, Poseidon's son realized that since Di Angelo had arrived in such an abrupt and unexpected way, he had cultivated far more questions than answers. 

"Want to sleep here?" 

Shit. He had to stop not-thinking before saying things. He shouldn't have asked that. I mean, didn't he just want to kick Di Angelo from the start (and, gods, anyone who might show up)? 

Offering that was complicated. Percy would have to find a towel for Nico to take a shower, look for a clean blanket in the closet, borrow clothes that would certainly be huge on the skinny boy ( _too thin_ ), give him one of his pillows ... Jackson did not know how to do that anymore. Did not know. 

But he knew it was cruel to kick Nico out the door at three o'clock in the morning, aware that outside it was doing something around 59°F and that any monster, even a fucking Chimera, could be in an alley in town, ready to devour Hades son's messy head. 

Di Angelo hesitated. 

"And a laptop?" 

Percy looked at him. 

"Nico, do you know what time it is?" 

The other seemed to think a little. 

"Um, well, it's night. Maybe it's, uh ... I don't know ... about eight o'clock now?" 

Jackson looked away, staring at a spot above Nico's head, on the teal wall behind him. He looked at the white clock for a few seconds before answering: 

"Dude, at that moment it's, um ... 3:48 am." 

Nico blushed as if only then realized that he had appeared there so late. He tried to hide his reaction. Percy, again, would not be surprised if the other had not even noticed the time. 

"Oh ... I'm ... I'm sorry." 

"It's all right." 

And again, that uncomfortable silence. Di Angelo turned the skull ring again. Percy started to watch his nails as if they suddenly attracted his interest. Slowly, the low voice sounded: 

"I accept ... Of course if it won't get in the way." 

Percy Jackson took a breath, quickly considering if that wasn't a bad idea. Before he could stop himself, he heard his voice: 

"No problems. It won't be a bother." 

Oh, gods. He just wanted to drink his coffee in peace. 

_I know there's someone at the door_

_They called for help, of this I'm sure_

_But do I want to say goodbye_

_to all the glowing eyes_

Glowing Eyes – Twenty One Pilots 


	2. Mythology and sheets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys   
> Again, sorry for any grammatical errors  
> Enjoy!

Percy woke up early in the morning.

The night was not good.

He rolled over on the green sheets, realizing by 04:33 am that he should change them soon (was not like he was looking at the digital clock next to the bed with absurd anxiety that seemed to make time go more slowly, _of course not_ ). And, well, how long had those sheets been there? Almost a month? Yeah, he needed to change them. Really. So, Percy, take this mental note and change the damn sheets later.

At some point, while almost cursing Hypnos, he fell asleep.

He had no dreams, which was great, but it didn't mean he slept well either. He woke up three times, all for no reason, but then he slept again.

The fourth time, he decided to get out of bed. His back hurt because of the strange position in which he had spent the night. He hadn't slept for even four full hours. _Gods_ , he needed more coffee.

Dragging his feet, he went into the living room. The light that came in through the cracks in the room curtain made his head hurt.

Cautiously, he looked at the sofa.

The three-person seat was not exactly what Percy called _comfortable_. It was a pretty _okay_ place to sit, yes, but he wouldn't recommend it that much for a good night's sleep. He had been through this experience at least half a dozen times when fell asleep watching a bad movie or documentary because he couldn't close his eyes like a normal human being. He moved a lot, and on one occasion even fell flat on his face on the cold floor. He always woke up in pain because of the wooden structure with the thin layer of foam, which honestly did not help that much in terms of _fluffing_.

But Nico? Nico slept there with an admirable peace.

Percy thought that by the time he woke up the next day, that kid would be long gone. In fact, he even thought that Di Angelo might just be a small hallucination of his tired mind.

But he was there, _right there_ , in front of him. He snored softly, the baby blue blanket covering his skinny legs and going up to the middle of his chest. His mouth was slightly open, but he didn't drool like Jackson. Their upper teeth could be seen, and Poseidon's son noticed that they had a small separation that he had never noticed before. The pillow was pulled to one side. He wore sweatpants and a red T-shirt from Percy, which he lent him after the hot shower. There were at least 3 numbers larger than recommended.

Percy was surprised to think that, were it not for the state of Hades' son, he could have been a very handsome boy, with his Italian features and shiny black hair. The sleeping countenance gave the calm that an ordinary teenager should have.

The young man had always been a relatively important part of his life, but a little left out due to his duties as a demigod. He felt guilty at the thought, even though he knew it was the truth.

Percy shook his head, trying to ward off those thoughts that were beginning to pop up in the back of his mind, drawing diffuse connections until he reached that point where he tried so hard to avoid.

He was over it. Gods, that was almost two years ago. Everything was _fine_ , everything was _okay_.

He walked to the kitchen, still focused on not thinking too much. He switched on the coffee maker and then retrieved the keys and wallet. He would go to the bakery. Bread, maybe some cheese? What scary kids of sixteen or seventeen years old ate? Jackson was out of date.

A deep sigh.

The day would be lengthy.

…

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

He would never curse a god, least of all his own father. He liked old Poseidon very much, but _shit_ , Percy sometimes wanted even more to be the son of some lesser-known god. Morpheus? Iris? Perhaps the god of breakfast?

Anything less than _Big Three_ would be better. The thing was _"you entered adulthood, the monsters will give you a respite"_ , right? Seriously, man, a small truce was good enough. He just wanted to go to the fucking bakery in peace. But no, of course not. Monsters cannot afford a day of rest for the mighty Percy Jackson, son of none other than Poseidon, the stupendous god of the seas, Lord of the horses, and so on.

Fuck it. Really.

Fuck.

Fuck.

_ Fuck _ .

He was walking when, out of the most damn thing, an _empousa_ appeared, cornering him against an alley. Jackson almost whined _; Not today! Come back next week, I beg you!_

He only knew it was an _empousa_ because she, in a completely mysterious and nothing expository dialogue, said:

“Percy Jackson, I'm an _empousa_!”

“AAAHHHH!”, He replied. (Percy swore it had been a very male cry, by the way).

She smiled.

“My name is _blah blah_! I will revenge _blah blah_ , cut off your head, and _blah blah blah blah_!”

Of course, the _blah_ _blah_ had not said _blah_ _blah_ , but Jackson could only hear the most important parts. No one pays much attention to detail when a woman says _revenge_ and _cut off your head_ in the same sentence.

Aside from the different legs that he had noticed too late - one bronze and the other animal - she was a wonderful young woman: green eyes, curly hair, brown skin, stunning smile, the beautiful curvy body in an impeccable cheerleader uniform.

Suddenly, to Poseidon's son's complete displeasure, the supermodel's face began to deform. Bram Stoker would be impressed by the fangs, the pale skin, and the red eyes; a worthy horror movie vampire was standing there, ready to finish him off.

Jackson, for his part, would be much more impressed if a miserable day of his life started with a simple, boring normal morning.

\- How about a kiss, Perseus Jackson? - She snarled.

He frowned.

\- Eat shit.

The Riptide had already been pulled out of his pocket. The vampire smiled.

\- How rude. Didn't your mother teach you to be polite to ladies?

As soon as she finished her short sentence, she attacked Percy. He barely had time to give the superintelligent answer he was working on, which was something like _"of course she taught, duh!"_

He struck, but she was quicker, dodging. _Blahblah_ tried to attack the boy with the giant fangs, luckily causing only a not-so-nice tear on his shirt sleeve.

But the _empousa_ , of course, had more tricks than simple huge fangs, weird legs, and orange pompons. As if by magic, her face was transfigured. It was like a punch to Percy's stomach; how had he forgotten that she was so beautiful?

Jackson thought he would be prepared, but he was not. He had never seen hair so shiny falling like waterfalls over a girl's shoulders before. He almost sighed. Was that right? Was it okay to kill such a perfect girl? Of course, she was a murderous mythological monster, thirsty for blood and destruction, and he was a human dumb enough to not focus on what mattered. But what did it really matter? Percy couldn't think very well.

Suddenly, the idea of that kiss didn't seem too bad.

He barely noticed when she grabbed and too easily lifted a trash can that was just to her left. It must have weighed 154 pounds. And he, acting like an idiot again, was not as fast as he should have been.

The can didn't hit him, of course, or else the legendary Percy Jackson would have turned into a stinky pancake of demigod just because of the speed at which the object had flown in his direction.

“Your son of a ...” He shouted.

“You bastard demigod! Be quiet when I try to crush you!”, She interrupted, yelling. The dreadful face was back.

But even if he hadn't actually been hit, all the trash had flown over him - a banana peel hung over his head. Liquids he didn't want to know where they came from stained his pajamas. A pamphlet from a gold buying and selling store was clinging to his shirt as if it were a botton.

Besides, to his utter bad luck, in some bizarre way, the Riptide had ended up on the other side of the alley.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Really _. Fuck it._

The _empousa_ , which was nothing stupid, launched itself at Jackson again when he realized his momentary fragility. He dodged and then tried to kick it, but all he got was a bad cut on his leg, inflicted by sharp nails. It hurt like red-hot iron, but he couldn't afford to remain still.

Due to the pain and the imbalance, Percy fell, cornered on top of the trash that was on the floor.

But Poseidon's son hadn't given up yet, of course. It would be a very stupid way to die, and he couldn't take one more stupid thing for the huge list of Stupid Things he had already done. He looked around with his ADHD getting him ready, looking for anything that could turn his situation around.

Then he saw his lifeguard: the lid of the damn trash.

When the empousa came to deliver the final blow, he lifted the metal disk as if it were a shield.

His arms shook with the effort, but he still managed to push the monster away and ran to the sword in that very short time. He certainly must have looked like a lame idiot, but this was not the time to try to look like a hero. Anaklusmos would eventually return to his pocket, which would take some time - perhaps the time he would not have.

Percy grabbed the sword, already rotating the body in a semi-circle like a samurai, cutting the _empousa_ right in the middle. The perfect timing.

It turned to dust, leaving only an orange pompom behind.

Jackson had a bleeding leg, a lot of anger, and tiredness (ah, and apparently an orange pompom as spoil). Also, he was still covered in monster dust and New Yorker garbage.

He walked out of the alley. Mortals looked at him strangely, but he could understand - it is not always that you see a boy with the aroma of rotten eggs and a mixture of dubious papers with fruit peels stuck in his messy hair.

With a sigh of pure hatred, Percy Jackson somehow arrived at the bakery.

...

When he returned to the apartment, he was greeted by the smell of coffee, which had permeated the entire place (which attenuated by about 10% his smell from the dumpster in the summer sun). It had been over an hour since he left, giving the second-hand coffee maker plenty of time to do its job.

He carried a paper package with two baguettes, milk, half a dozen eggs, bacon in strips, and cheese. Percy hoped it would be enough - Nico seemed to need a very hearty breakfast.

He dropped shopping on the kitchen counter. Jackson tried not to make too much noise, although he had the slight impression that even if the Party Ponies entered that room doing everything they knew how to do, Nico would remain in his peaceful sleep. Perhaps, at most, he would frown.

Percy went to take a shower and bandage that leg. The guy had to wash his hair three times so that the smell of rotten fruit with skunk would come out. As soon as he finished, he sat on the top of the toilet with a first aid kit handy (specially prepared for a demigod, of course, with pieces of ambrosia, ethyl alcohol, and lots of Hello Kitty’s band-aids).

The water had helped a lot in the healing of the wound, but it was a deep cut, so it would need extra help. He made a bandage on the spot and, hesitantly, bit a piece of ambrosia. It went down his throat with the same flavor as the terrible Italian pizza he had eaten when ...

Ah, gods. That was torture.

Finally, he put on an outfit, trying not to think of anything but that task, and preferred to throw the pajamas he wore straight into the trash can. It was torn, smelly, and honestly, brown with white was not his color.

He put on a blue shirt with the words Save the Corals from the Amazon! and gray sweatpants. He remembered that he had not brushed his teeth (and almost felt sorry for the poor cashier girl, who, in addition to being frightened by Percy's probably murderous look and a rather screwed-up appearance, still had to deal with the smell of garbage and his bad breath).

He spat out the paste foam in the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He hadn't changed that much since the war, found himself brooding. But there were the notable things, of course, like the beard that, although thin, gave some signs of existence or the dark circles that did not match his own age.

He sighed.

What had happened to him?

…

Coffee, milk, sugar. It was tasty, or at least better than last night's. He fried the bacon, the eggs and added the melted cheese on top, stuffing everything into a generous piece of baguette. Mahi, a mortal friend from college, always said that she would like to know his secret. “You eat for three or four grown men and still have that six-pack! It is so unfair...”

Percy didn't think she would believe it if he answered casually “my secret? Haha, just run from an enraged _dracaena_ and fight with four _empousai_ , at least six times a week after lunch, if possible always fear for your life and, of course, I was already forgetting, sword training!”

So he just replied with something vague enough that there were no more questions and enough objective to seem true. The answer, in general, was associated with genetics, followed by a forced smile.

Around the third cup of coffee, Percy realized that Di Angelo would not wake up anytime soon. So he decided to go to his room. He had to study, and maybe sleep a little more, if the gods, by some miracle, decided that he was worthy.

…

Seven hours later (of which four spent trying to sleep, one trying to read a book, one doing absolutely nothing, and only one actually studying), Percy left his room.

After sweeping the rooms, which lasted about fifteen minutes, he heard a rustle coming from the sofa.

Slowly, Hades' son sat down. His strands of hair stood out everywhere. A part of them was crumpled at an odd angle, forming a very funny fringe. Swollen eyes, a little red face on the left side, with the angular marks of the sheet fabric pressing on his face for all those hours. The look was lost as if he didn't even know where he was. He certainly looked like a person who had slept well.

At least _someone_ had had a good sleep in that house.

“Good morning”, Percy said. He couldn't help smiling, even if only slightly.

Nico's black eyes finally found the figure of Jackson, standing on the kitchen portal with the broom in hand.

Di Angelo blushed.

It seemed that even his ears hidden by the curl of wavy hair were reddish. Slowly, he ran his hand over his face, bringing the messy strands back, giving him an almost untidy arrangement, but that at least allowed the complete view of the yes-I-just-woke-up facial expression.

Then Percy said:

“Slept well?”

_Obviously, Percy, you idiot_.

“Ah yes. I slept. Thanks”, murmured the youngest.

“Seriously? You know, I think it sucks to sleep on that sofa. My back hurts, always. “, Yes, he was trying to make _small talk_. The problem is that Jackson was a failure in that regard. Fighting Medusa herself was acceptable, but a common conversation? Oh, no, that was not his style.

“Mine doesn't hurt. Maybe ... because I'm lighter?”

“Perhaps.”

Silence.

“Hm, and you? Slept well?”

"No. I closed and opened my eyes every thirty minutes, but I didn't really sleep. And, like, I'm talking about the whole day.”

“What do you mean _the whole day_?”, The black eyes focused on the living room window for the first time, noticing how dark it was. “What time is it, Percy?”

“Uh, at that moment…”, Percy stepped back a little and looked at the kitchen clock. “It's seven twenty-three at night. Congratulations! You slept for about 16 hours straight.”

“Oh, gods…”, murmured the boy. “Sorry. Damn it, we had a mission to do and I was here, _sleeping_.”

“Hey, it's okay”. Embarrassing silence. “Look ... There is bread, eggs, I bought them in the morning. Eat something while I change clothes. Ah, there's a new toothbrush in the third drawer in the bathroom. I think that's it. Yeah.”

So Perseus Jackson, the incredible young man who had survived countless near-deaths, escaped conversation.

...

It was interesting.

Percy always had the impression that if he blinked, Nico Di Angelo would be gone. Blending in with the first shadow, running through your fingers, jumping into what Poseidon's son did not know.

After twenty-one minutes (not that he was looking at the room's digital clock with absurd anxiety, of course not), he thought Nico would disappear. That simple. When his feet touched the parquet floor of the room, Nico di Angelo would be nothing more than a mere distant blur, as if he had never been there.

It wasn't like Percy _really_ cared about it. Even without his old social cycle, he was doing great, thanks.

Still, having Nico at home after spending almost a year and a half away from camp was, in a way, _good_. And Percy didn't want it to be good. He wanted it to be terrible, to be left alone. He wanted to remain reclusive and grumpy like an 80-year-old dude.

But, as is well known, the peace of a demigod does not last long. The proof of this was Di Angelo, who was standing beside his sofa.

Jackson, in fact, did not know why he felt so stunned. It was just that skinny kid who had once been a cheerful, irritating, and chatty child, _so relax, man_. Nothing new there.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was a little happy. A little happy because, in the end, he wasn't that forgetful, right? Someone remembered him. He was still the guy who had defeated Cronos, the bargaining chip, the guy ...

The guy who had gone through the fucking Tartarus.

He closed his eyes tightly and ran a hand over his face.

“Are you okay?”

Had his voice always been so ripped and low? Jackson couldn't think about it much.

Nico was already dressed in his clothes from the night before. The only clashing element was a small piece of bread in his right hand and his chin dotted with crumbs.

“Yes, I'm fine. Seriously.”

Silence.

‘’Well, if you say.”

“Um, yes, sorry. Sleepiness. We can go.”

Nico did not seem convinced, of course. Still, he raised his eyebrows.

“What do you have there?”, He pointed to the backpack that Percy was carrying. He had even changed clothes, and now he wore something more suited to his suicide mission: jeans, T-shirt, comfortable sneakers, thermal jacket.

“Ah, you know, the basics. Ambrosia, extra shirt, mortal money, and a few drachmas...”

Hades' son nodded.

“So let's go?”, He questioned bluntly.

_No. I would rather stay here and read three whole books of cellular respiration than do anything for your asshole father,_ he wanted to answer. Instead, he just sighed, then muttered:

"Sure."

...

"Excited?", Nico mumbled as soon as they arrived outside the old building.

Percy took a deep breath. The night air was freezing, and he made his breath condense in the darkness. The Riptide, as always, was very safe in the pocket. He had a backpack with useful things - even mint candies were shaking in a small green tin! Could a demigod ask for more than that?

“No. Under no circumstances. Never”, He answered.

“That's great”, Nico replied. Percy swore that the boy was struggling to suppress a laugh. He started walking forward, the styrene sword swinging in its holder.

On that cold and probably deadly night, Percy Jackson had only one thought in mind:

_I forgot to change the damn sheets._ _Fuck._

_ “London calling to the faraway towns _

_ Now war is declared and battle come down _

_ London calling to the underworld _

_ Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls” _

London Calling – The Clash


End file.
